


Whipstickagostop

by ladybubblegum



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Friends to Lovers, M/M, Road Trips, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-25
Updated: 2015-12-25
Packaged: 2018-05-08 13:49:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5499386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladybubblegum/pseuds/ladybubblegum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They took to the road the day after graduation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Whipstickagostop

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Loz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Loz/gifts).



> So this was actually supposed to be waaaaaay longer but the holiday season kicked my ass at work and I ended up not having time/energy to make it as long as I initially planned. I am happy with the way it turned out though. Enjoy, Loz! I hope it's what you were hoping for! :D

They took to the road the day after graduation.

Stiles insisted they leave immediately--that way, they'd have more time on the road but they'd be able to be back in time to spend the rest of the summer with their parents before they left for school. So they packed up everything they'd need into Stiles' jeep bright and early and hit the road. They made it 12 hours before they hit their first motel.

It was a shitty little roadside place that definitely wouldn’t be appearing in the Zagat guide any time soon. But it had walls and a roof, and they were only staying one night anyway. Stiles loved it.

"We're roughing it, man," he enthused as they made their way to the room all the way at the end of the row of doors. "This is what it's all about, we're living the dream."

"Yeah, I'm sure this is exactly what the founding fathers had in mind. Bad diner food and by-the-hour rooms on the highway," Scott replied, even as he felt the effects of Stiles' infectious enthusiasm pulling at the corners of his mouth.

Stiles feigned hurt. “Where did this cynical humor come from? What happened to your sense of adventure, Scotty?”

“You dragged it out of bed in the middle of the night three years ago to go find a dead body,” Scott shot back good-humoredly. Stiles stuck his tongue out at him. “I think this is it,” he announced as they arrived at the door marked 217. It was literally the last room on the block, which meant they’d probably have an extra window to admire their view of the 7-11 across the highway.

The inside was about as glamorous as the outside suggested, but nothing would quell Stiles’ enthusiasm--he immediately jumped on one of the beds and bounced on it like a toddler, grin firmly in place.

It had been so long since he’d seen Stiles so carefree, so he figured a little property damage was probably worth it.

\---

“Where’s our first stop?” Scott asked bright and early the next morning, as he sat in the passenger side of Stiles’ jeep with a fold-out map sitting on his lap, since Stiles insisted they not use GPS (“What part of ‘roughing it’ do you not understand, Scott?”). There were no directions lined out in the map, no path for them to take.

“No stops,” Stiles told him brightly, turning the key in the ignition. “We’re heading straight for New York.”

Scott frowned. “Isn’t the whole point of a road trip to sightsee?”

“Not this one,” Stiles said, pulling out of the parking lot and heading back onto the highway. “If we take turns driving, we can make it there in four days.”

“What’s the big rush?” Scott asked, an uneasy feeling settling in his stomach, the same kind he got whenever it felt like Stiles was upset with him or hiding something from him. “I mean, if you don’t want to do this, we can still turn around.”

Stiles sighed. “That’s not it. I just want to get to the city. We can sightsee there. That’s what New York is for.”

Scott wasn’t mollified, but he kept quiet anyway. Eventually, he’d get the truth. “So, when’s my turn to drive?”

Stiles grinned at him and didn’t answer.

\---

Of course, because their lives were never dull or easy, the jeep broke down somewhere in the middle of Kansas.

“I just had it serviced, right before we left,” Stiles groused as he popped the smoking hood open. “It was in perfect working condition. The mechanic swore it would get us there and back.”

Scott sighed, and climbed out of the jeep to try to help. “Stiles, this thing is older than you by like a decade. I’m surprised it gets you to _school_ much less to New York.”

“This jeep is fine,” Stiles bit out, hands braced on the edge of the jeep as he stared into the chassis. “I replaced almost everything in it. It’s practically a new car. There’s no reason this should have happened.”

Scott was in the middle of once again suggesting it was really time to retire the jeep when a familiar shiver ran up his spine and his whole body froze in shock.

 _Werewolf_.

He hadn’t been expecting to run into any so far from California, and his momentary hesitation cost him dearly--the omega burst out from behind some sparse bushes near them and collided with Stiles before Scott could move a muscle. Stiles fought like hell against the crushing hold the man had on his neck and Scott leapt forward to tear him away from the threat until a flash of claws and trickles of blood stopped them both dead.

“Take another step and he dies,” the omega growled, because apparently he learned to be a werewolf from bad movies. His voice was hoarse and scratchy, as if he hadn’t had a drink of water in days.

“What do you want?” Scott asked around fangs he hadn’t realized had slipped out.

“If you want your friend to walk away alive, Alpha,” the man said, “You’ll come here and let me tear your throat out.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Stiles gasped, still trying to pull the hand away from his throat. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“If you’d like, I could just rip his out instead,” the omega told Scott, shaking Stiles a little. Stiles groaned as the claws dug deeper.

Scott watched as Stiles’ hand crept up to his pocket and slipped inside. He looked back up to Stiles’ eyes and Stiles rose his eyebrows--silently communicating. _Distract him_.

“Okay, look,” Scott said, holding his hands up placatingly. “Don’t hurt him. Maybe we can work this out.”

The omega laughed. “Work what out? I want to kill an alpha, and you’re an alpha. I want my own pack. You’ll give me that.” He jerked his head toward Stiles. “Maybe I’ll start with him. Maybe--”

Whatever he was going to say next was cut off as Stiles pulled a baggie of something black and shimmering out of his pocket and threw it back into the omega’s face. It exploded on impact, sending black dust everywhere--mountain ash. The omega roared in fury and pain as Stiles broke out of his hold, clapping a hand to his neck and running at Scott, who caught him and shoved him back toward the jeep behind him.

Scott turned back to the omega as the man tried desperately to rub the dust out of his watering eyes. “What--what the fuck was that?”

“Mountain ash,” Scott replied, approaching him, claws still out and ready. “If you don’t want more, you’ll get the hell out of here.” It wasn’t likely that they actually did have more--Scott was surprised Stiles had even that little bit on him--but this guy didn’t need to know that. “You’re not going to try anything like this again. I have a number in my phone for a member of one of the oldest hunting families in the world. One call, and this area will be flooded with hunters faster than you can blink. You hurt another person, and they’ll find you. I promise that.”

The omega stared in his general direction. “You’re letting me go?”

“I don’t need to kill you,” Scott told him plainly. “I know better.”

With that, he turned his back and made his way back to the jeep, where Stiles was standing near the door. Scott gently pulled Stiles’ hand off his neck to see the wounds.

“I’m fine,” Stiles told him. “They’re not even bleeding anymore. You really think he’s just gonna listen to you?”

“You threw a bag of mountain ash in his face,” Scott replied, half a grin spreading across his face. “I don’t think he’s forgetting that any time soon. Get in, we’ll call a tow truck.”

“Asshole probably fucked with the jeep,” Stiles grumbled as he opened the door and climbed in. Scott looked back. The omega was gone. Stiles looked thunderous. "Two fucking weeks! Just two weeks of peace is all I fucking wanted..."

Scott climbed into the passenger side, carefully not breathing in the acrid scent of anxiety--both his and Stiles'-- and tried to stop his heart from racing.

\---

The repairs to the jeep cost them nearly a grand.

This normally wouldn’t be too much of a problem, except that it took out most of their spending money. Their parents had already paid an enormous amount of money getting them ready to go away for school, so that well was dry. They’d left California with two thousand meant to last for the entire trip and it looked like they were left with only about 800, with more than three quarters of the trip left.

“Next motel, we’re gonna have to go with a single,” Stiles told him as they left the mechanic’s. “Maybe even sleep in the jeep. This fucking _sucks_.”

“Maybe we should turn back,” Scott suggested gently as they pulled back onto the road. “The money we have left should get us home.”

“We’re not going home!” Stiles snapped. "I don't care what kind of stupid werewolf shit happens, or how much money I have to spend getting us to New York. We're going to fucking New York." His hands tightened on the steering wheel and Scott could hear his heartbeat begin to race.

“We can go next year,” Scott reasoned, taken aback. “Stiles, why is this so important?”

“Because this is it!” Stiles cried. “When we get back, you’re going to UC Davis and I’m going to Stanford and we’re never gonna see each other. This was supposed to be our last big--thing together!”

Scott thought he smelled salt--tears--but didn't say anything. “Of course we’re gonna see each other. This isn’t the last big thing.”

“We say that now,” Stiles said. “And maybe we try, at first. But then we’ll both get busy, start spending more weekends at school, and after a while, we just drift apart. We stop being friends.”

“Hey, listen to me,” Scott told him sternly. “We’re never not being friends. After everything, how can you think that I’d just let you go? So we have a break. We get degrees and jobs. But if you think for one second that I’m not gonna be skyping and texting every spare second I can, then you clearly don’t see this friendship the way I do.” He smiled over at a stony-faced Stiles. “You’re stuck with me.”

Stiles clearly still looked unhappy, but he shrugged. “I guess.”

“We’ll get a single, next motel,” Scott conceded. “As long as you don’t kick me in your sleep.”

\---

Here’s the thing.

Stiles had always been at least a little attractive to Scott. Maybe a little on the skinny side, and the buzzcut hadn’t done him any favors, but he was definitely not ugly. And then the summer between sophomore and junior year happened. Scott had been so busy at work that he and Stiles barely saw each other, and it was as if Stiles had transformed overnight from kind-of-attractive to holy-shit.

It was terrible timing for a crush. He was still trailing after the shattered remains of his relationship with Allison and Stiles was still navigating the awkward terrain of defining his sexuality. Somehow the opportunity to tell Stiles how he felt never really presented itself before he met Kira. And by the time his relationship with her was over, he’d talked himself out of believing they were a good idea.

Stiles was his best friend in the entire world. And Scott was pretty sure that somewhere, there was a rule about hitting on your best friend. What if it went wrong? What if Stiles didn’t feel the same? What if they broke up? So he just kept it bottled up and hoped it wouldn’t spill over.

And now they were going to share a bed.

\---

“Did you mean what you said?”

They were laying side by side, having turned the TV off intending to sleep but finding they were both too worked up to rest. Scott looked over at him and frowned.

“Mean what?”

“The stuff about us staying friends. You’re really gonna try?”

Scott heaved himself up and turned his body to face Stiles, propping his head up on his hand. “Of course I did. You and me, forever.” 

Stiles turned as well, sighing.

“I’m sorry I’m being crazy,” he said. “It’s just, you’re one of the most important people in my life. I’m gonna hate not being able to see you whenever I want.”

“Hey, you call me, and you can see me whenever you want,” Scott told him. “I will absolutely drive myself to Stanford if I have to.”

Stiles smiled. “I’m gonna hold you to that.”

"I almost lost you the other day," Scott whispered, unable to stop the words from pouring out. "Scared the crap out of me."

"I'm still here." Stiles' smile turned into a half-grin. "If I'm stuck with you, you're definitely stuck with me."

Maybe it was the way the moonlight streaming in from between the window blinds was hitting his eyes, or maybe it was intimacy of the situation, or maybe it was Scott’s own brain going on autopilot--something made him lean over and press their lips together.

It was a chaste kiss, all told, and Scott supposed he could write it off as brotherly and platonic, making excuses in his head as he pulled back. They stared at each other for several moments before Stiles leaned back in to bring their mouths back together, deepening the kiss, turning their heads to fit together better. He ran his tongue along the seam of Scott’s closed lips, and Scott opened his mouth as Stiles pushed him gently onto his back, sliding on top of him and breaking the kiss with a smack.

“Is this--is this okay?” Stiles asked, breathless.

“Yeah,” Scott replied, bringing his hands to Stiles’ waist and squeezing.

Stiles laughed. “This is new.”

Scott smiled up at him.

“Yeah.”

He reached up and brought their mouths back together.

\---

Things weren’t awkward.

Honestly, Scott felt they should have been. Sex with your best friend should be weird, right? But with him and Stiles, it felt as if they’d been together forever. Like they’d been boyfriends their whole lives, and this was just a new facet of it.

Scott supposed in a way, they had been.

They held hands walking into the diner they stopped at for breakfast, and while they got a few strange looks from the locals, it felt as natural as breathing.

“We gotta hit Times Square before we head home,” Stiles was saying around a mouthful of eggs as Scott listened, amused. “We’re not gonna have too long, since we have to cut the trip short, but we can at least see it at night. I’ve heard it’s awesome.”

“What are we gonna say?” Scott asked. “To our parents? About us?”

Stiles froze, another forkful of eggs halfway to his mouth. “Uh. What do you want to tell them?”

“That we’re together,” Scott said plainly. He was done dancing around what he wanted. “If we are. You know, together.”

“Dude, of course we’re together,” Stiles laughed. “We’re stuck with each other, remember?”

It shouldn’t have been that easy.

But then, he and Stiles had never been anything resembling typical.

\---

They arrived in New York on a truly miserable, rainy day. Clouds hung low in the sky, obscuring the tops of the highest building, but the weather had no effect on Stiles’ excitement.

The clouds had drifted somewhat by the time night hit, and Stiles dragged Scott out to Times Square, as planned. Even with the weather as bad as it was, the streets were packed with pedestrians and fellow tourists and people in costumes. Scott made a mental note to get a picture later on.

"Hey," Stiles nudged him with an elbow in his side. "We made it, dude."

Stiles was clearly mesmerized by the flashing lights of the tall buildings, gleaming bright against the black sky, but Scott couldn't tear his eyes from him to appreciate the sight. He smiled.

"Yeah...we did."

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed! :D 
> 
> The title is a reference to a song by Mindless Self Indulgence.
> 
> (i'll be linking my tumblr here once everything is revealed--stay tuned~)


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